


A Little Left of Eden

by Miran4242



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: A child au, Crowley is trouble, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Maybe more elizabethian, They're little boys with estates, They're victorian?, aziraphale is baby, but in a good way, etc etc - Freeform, kind of, like think turn of the screw, pride and prejudice - Freeform, thats all you gotta know, the type of people who would have a governess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22375630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miran4242/pseuds/Miran4242
Summary: A tale as old as time. A garden. An Apple. A boy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	A Little Left of Eden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abblepie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abblepie/gifts).



Aziraphale was not allowed in the garden.

It was a simple enough rule, really. The sprawling Beaulah estate was more than big enough for a young boy. There were woods in the back, where he could run and pretend he was a lost boy or Robinson Crusoe. There were plenty of old empty rooms full of books and new adventures. There was his guardian and teacher, Mr. Gabriel and the cook and the butler and all the servants. There was plenty to do and see.

But there was also the garden. 

It was possible, that after a while, the big empty rooms got lonely. And that Mr. Gabriel was happy to teach him his facts and figures and to suggest books of various kinds, but he was not one for games or jokes. So even though there was enough room for him, it often felt as though he was wandering it alone. He began to think of the garden as a friend of sorts, tall and towering as it was in the back of the house. He’d think of all the sprites and fairies that might hide there, burrowing among the flowers. It’s inside changed, everytime he thought of it. Sometimes it was Neverland, with a huge lagoon in the middle full of pirates and mermaids. Sometimes it was a dense jungle, where Sher Kan lurked. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly romantic, it was simply a garden full of something nice, like daisies. 

Aziraphale would find himself standing in front of the big green hedges, looking at the flower petals that escaped over the towering leafy walls, the tips of tree branches he could just see. He would try to guess what kind of flowers they were by looking at the old books he’d found. In the spring there were cherry blossoms. He once found an apple, near a hedge. It was half rotten, so he didn’t dare touch it, but something inside him fluttered with excitement looking at it. He wondered what wonderful things that could lie in that garden. If only he were allowed into it. 

Mr. Gabriel, whenever asked, would say it was not his rule. It was the rule of his Benefactoress, and She must be obeyed. Aziraphale had never met Her, but he knew She was responsible for his schooling and his clothes and his food. She owned the bed he slept on and the books he read and gave him everything he could have ever wanted. And so, when She said he must attend an opera, or speak to an old and smelly gentlemen or stay out of the garden, he did. 

He did.

But sometimes he would just look. At first he would simply look at it from the window in the library. Glancing up during lessons or when he was reading to see if the wall was still there. Then he would pause on his way to the woods or to the front lawn, and look at the gapes in the hedge. He thought, sometimes he could see a glimpse of stone, or marble if he squinted. He even sometimes thought he saw the hedge move, as though some animal was moving through it. Seemed unfair, he’d think, that a rabbit or a squirrel would get to see the garden when he could not. Then he got closer. Close enough that if he reached out his hand he could touch the leafy branches. He felt, from this distance, that they were reaching out to him, that they only needed his touch in order to be free from whatever trapped them in the garden. He would stand, feet from the arched entrance into the garden maze, and feel the sweet smelling wind blowing from inside. 

There was no harm in standing here, he’d think. I am not inside the garden. Which is the rule. I am not allowed inside. But I can stand here, and smell the flowers and feel the wind and wonder. 

That was exactly what he was doing one day in the summer., standing at the entryway to the garden, a few steps from it’s entrance. The sun was high in the sky, but Mr. Gabriel had said he smelled rain in the air. He gazed inside, only seeing more hedge. He supposed that the reason he was not allowed inside was because of the maze. Mr. Gabriel feared he would get lost in all the leaves and flowers and branches. He did not always mind, being lost, however, given a lazy afternoon and nowhere to be. 

“What are you doing?” 

Aziraphale jumped backwards. Behind him, eating a bright red apple, was a boy. He was wearing sunglasses, horrible red trousers, and had hair that was a peculiar color bronze. Aziraphale was struck with the intense impression that this boy was nothing but trouble. 

“None of your business, what I’m doing.” He said, in his greatest master of the house voice, with just the tiniest bit of tremble. “What are you doing. This is my house.” 

“Is it?” The bronze haired tilted his head, taking another bite of his apple. Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how he managed to make every bite into a statement, but he did. “Then why are you afraid to go in the garden?” 

“I’m not afraid.” Aziraphale said, straightening his jacket. “I’m just not allowed. There’s a difference.” 

"Seems to me,” Said the boy, who had still not introduced himself or explained his presence, “that if it’s your house, you should be able to go wherever you want. “ 

Aziraphale didn’t quite have an answer for that one. It made a lot of sense. Before he could say anything the strange boy got closer to the hedge. He stood in the archway, for a moment surrounded by dark green leaves. Aziraphale decided that he looked just like a fairy, then, or an imp. All the read and bronze against the deep green of the archway. Like Christmas. The boy tossed his apple to the ground, unfinished. 

“You coming?” He asked. He did not wait for Aziraphale before disappearing into the garden. 

Aziraphale was at a crossroads. On one hand, he was not allowed. But here was a strange boy, from who knows where, trespassing on their land. Wasn’t it his duty, his responsibility to protect Beaulah? Wouldn’t Mr. Gabriel, instead of scolding him, praise him for his excellent quick thinking in a situation such as this? 

“Wait for me!” 

And Aziraphale had entered the garden. 

He rushed after the boy who had disappeared behind a maze hedge. The day was bright and sunny. It was a kind summer as Mr. Gabriel would say, but it seems to get darker in the garden, as though they were hidden from even the sun. Aziraphale had the silliest idea that he would never leave the garden once he had entered. 

He nearly crashed into the boy, who’d come to a stop in front of a big apple tree. It rose above them, all warm gray bark and on it were apples of all shades of red and yellow. 

“Bit lucky, that.” Said the boy, kicking a fallen apple across the ground. 

“Who are you?” Aziraphale said, out of breath. The other boy was in the process of climbing the tree.

“Crowley. Just moved in down the hill.” Crowley grinned as he reached a low branch, he shimmied slightly to the end, and reached for a bright red apple that was just out of reach. Aziraphale wondered if his mother paid an awful lot for new clothes for him, as Crowley was getting absolutely filthy. “ Do you want one?” 

He knew of the house down the hill. It was old and empty. Aziraphale would sometimes look at it from the edge of Beaulah property. From there, he could look down to the bottom of the hill where the house lay and gaze at the huge spires and broken porch. It was truly ugly, and something about it made him think of a huge creature prowling below him. He never stayed to look very long.

“No, thank you.” Half of him wanted to get both him and Crowley out of here before they got in trouble. The other half urged him to enjoy himself. 

“What’s your name?” Crowley asked. 

“Aziraphale. Are you often in the habit of coming uninvited to other peoples gardens?”

Crowley grinned again, he was far to grinny for Aziraphales liking. “Aziraphale? What a mouthful. No, this is the first, but I might make a habit of it.” The boy scampered down the tree. He had two apples in his hand. He handed one to Aziraphale, despite his protest. 

If Aziraphale was anything, he was polite, so he took the apple surveyed it carefully. No worms or the like. He pulled his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and polished it gently. Then took a bite. It was good, he had to admit. Sweet and just the tiniest bit sour. Crowley watched this process, then rubbed the apple on his already dirty shirt and took a bite wantonly. 

“A good apple,” Aziraphale admitted. 

“Nothing sweeter than something you aren’t supposed to have, that's why my mum used to say.” 

Which reminded Aziraphale where they were. “We have to go back. I’m not allowed. If we’re caught- “

"We won’t get caught. Don’t you want to know what else is in here?” 

Aziraphale did, desperately. Every string in his little boy heart was aching for adventure, to find what other forbidden fruits could be found. But it was law that separated men and beasts wasn’t it? And he was a good young gentleman who did what he was told wasn’t he? 

“Come on, Aziraphale, it’ll be fun.” There was something in the way Crowley said his name, and Aziraphale would later assume that that is where it all started. He said it like it was special. As though he were chewing on all the syllables and quite liked how they tasted. Crowley held out a hand. Aziraphale reached to take it. 

Suddenly there was a crack coming from something deeper in the maze. 

“What was that?” Aziraphale asked. For the first time Crowley looks ruffled, Aziraphale wondered if he was imagining the way that his eyes darkened. Another crack, this time, closer. Something was moving toward them. Aziraphale instinctively took a step closer to Crowley. 

The cracking noises got louder and faster, at first seeming to come one at a time, then crescendoing into a great rustling noise from somewhere in front of them. 

There are always moments in stories, Aziraphale had noticed, when the protagonist made a friend for life. They would swear to each other that they would love each other forever, and that they would stick together through thick and thin. Aziraphale supposed that this moment, when Crowley stepped between him and the creature coming for them through the hedge, was theirs. Crowley stood in front of him holding his apple like a grenade and Aziraphale, from all the evidence he had, decided they were friends.

A huge grey something came crashing through the hedges, moving so fast that Aziraphale couldn’t see it until after it had slammed straight into Crowley’s chest. Crowley went down with a strange hissing noise as the breath was knocked out of him. Aziraphale surprised himself by crying out as Crowley went down. He hid his hand over his eyes, and heard some kind of animal scream. He imagined some great wolf or monster ripping its teeth into the boy in front of him. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain that to Gabriel. 

“Get this thing off of me!” 

Aziraphale opened his eyes to see that Crowley had not been devoured by anything. Sitting on top of him, was perhaps the largest cat Aziraphale had ever seen. It’s claws had dug into Crowley’s shirt and it’s back was arched. The animal noise had been the cat, yowling as it tackled Crowley. It had it’s yellow eyes fixed on the boy under it, and Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure he was fully safe from a devouring. He moved a bit closer and the cat turned its gaze on him, it’s tail lashed. 

“Do something!” Crowley hissed.

  
  
“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale straightened his jacket, and cleared his throat. “Listen here…” He was unable to tell if the cat was a male or a female, which slowed down his polite rebuff. “...Cat. Please get off my friend here.” He was again The cats tail lashed again. It truly was large, and it’s claws looked as if it could rip into him quite terribly. He rallied his nerve. He tried to imagine what the Robinsons would do in a situation like this. He was like them, stranded on a strange island (The garden) and faced with strange Fauna (this cat). Making friends with animals seemed so much easier in books. 

The cat sat squarely on Crowley’s chest. 

“Aziraphale!” 

“I’m doing my best!” He would have to try some other tactic. This cat had no sense for manners. “What if I told you that I had a rather tasty cut of fish for you if you got off of him?”

He swore the cats ears flicked at the word fish.

“Now come on then, be reasonable. Fish? Fish? Fish?” 

The cat looked at him for another moment with its large yellow eyes. The grey fur on it’s back began to flatten. 

“That’s it, that’s a good chap. Come one, get off of him and I’ll get some fish for you.” 

The cat’s claws retracted, and it gave Crowley a look that Aziraphale could have sworn was sizing him up. It took a moment to lick its paw, and then leaped off of Crowley with a flick of its large bushy tail. It stalked over to Aziraphale, and immediately rubbed it’s head against his legs, a movement that with it’s size nearly knocked him over. “Now that’s a good fellow.” He gave a quick look between the cats legs. “My apologizes, a fine lady.” Aziraphale reached down to pet the cat, receiving a rumble that could have caused a small earthquake.

“I can’t believe you’re exchanging pleasantries with that monster.” Crowley stood up, dusting off his trousers in a surly way. 

“I believe it may have been a misunderstanding.” The cat looked at him expectantly, as he had promised fish. Aziraphale could only imagine what would happen to him if he failed to deliver. “I should probably get her her fish.” 

Crowley looked up at the sky, “I should get home as well. Can’t spend all day fending off evil cats for you.” 

Aziraphale did not bother to point out that it hadn’t happened exactly like that. He figured it wouldn’t be worth it. He held out his hand. “See you tomorrow then?” 

Crowley gave another ridiculous grin. “Tomorrow.” 

Aziraphale followed Crowley out of the maze, and they promised each other that they would delve deeper into it, a sort of gentlemen's mission. Aziraphale tried not to watch as Crowley’s bronze crop of hair disappeared over the hill. The cat let out a meow that sent the hair on the back of his neck tingling, and Aziraphale was reminded of what was apparently his new purpose: getting his new friend fish.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for my good friend! @abblepie <3 Not sure how far its will go but it's been sitting in my docs folder for too long.


End file.
